


Flashes

by nyxxbx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First War with Voldemort, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Post-Marauders' Era, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15023864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxbx/pseuds/nyxxbx
Summary: It had always been expected that she would end up in Gryffindor. After all, she did belong to a long line of Gryffindors who prided themselves on their personalities, no matter the circumstances. Yet, that did not happen.Sorted into Slytherin, Isabelle experiences what it's like to feel like a disgrace, what it's like to feel completely alone. Hogwarts becomes her only home, her House her only family. And she is not the only one among the students who feels this way.Sirius Black, one of the infamous Marauders is trapped in a similar situation. Coming from a long line of strict Slytherins, he is sorted into Gryffindor. And yet, despite the fact that him and Isabelle are quite similar, there couldn't be more fatal differences.So what is it that attracts him to her? Is it that she's intriguing and mysterious? Is it that he has found out her dirty secret and she's helpless?Flashes of a future may be able to answer it all.





	Flashes

As Isabelle's head hit the wooden floor, her blue eyes could see her gravestone upon a grassy lane.

Isabelle Devon Burton,  
Remembered by many, missed by none.

Her throat was closing in, but she let out a laugh -- staring forward at the familiar, homely surroundings. It was quite ironic, really. How one year could alter her whole future, one butterfly effect enough to tip the domino tiles so they could all fall in complete chaos.

Yes, it was chaos. Everything was a mess around her. To think her-once-childlish thoughts imagined her dying of the Killing Curse, the curse hissed out by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Yet, here she was, not alone but lonely. Then again, that wasn't where her story started.

First time Isabelle had experienced the wonders of magic, she was around 4 years old. Not that she hadn't seen it beforehand, coming from a long line of pureblooded Gryffindors. The late August breeze brought out goosebumps on her young, pale skin. She giggled as she brushed her hand through another pile of mud, destroying the dirty tower. A tabby cat had stolen her attention. Isabelle's dark eyes focused tensely on the feline animal as it prowled along the bushes of her backyard.

The child's young eyes noticed the small critter almost immediately. She watched as the striped cat moved closer and closer to the tiny mouse, ready to launch and attack any  
second. Except, that second never came. Isabelle's clumsy and slightly chubby legs were up in a flash, but she didn't run. She stood there, her eyes pierced onto the cat as she let out a shrill scream, hoping to scare away the predator. The cat didn't move though. Instead, the tabby stayed, completely frozen.

Pride was one of the characteristics that ruled in the Burton family and it had existed in the very roots of their ancestry. Pride was a second emotion - after fear - that Adela and Christian Burton had experienced once they had realised what their daughter actually managed to do. Full of joyous glee, both of them clung to Isabelle from each side, laughing at the petrified cat. They had no response to the problem, because to them there was any to begin with. Their only daughter had begun to show signs of their ancestors, sign that she was indeed unique among the muggle-neighborhood around them.

Of course, Isabelle on the other hand did not swell with pride at what she had done. Quite the contrary, she was more concerned with what would happen to the cat and whether or not would the young girl get punished for depriving the feline a few hours of living. Along with that, she could not get the bright green light out of her small head. It had glistened from her palm right before the cat froze.

But seeing the childlish grins on her parents' faces, she felt obligated to feel happy.

And so she was.

On the day of her eleventh birthday, Isabelle slipped down the stairs in the rhythm of her mother's humming. She could already imagine her in her apron, swaying her hips to a tune that couldn't be heard anywhere but in her mother's head. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun, hanging dangerously close to her shoulders, and her usual tan face was slightly pale from the absence of the sun in December. Isabelle had often wondered how her mother managed to make it into Gryffindor.

She did show some characteristics, she was stubborn to no end (like Isabelle, naturally), her pride was often too big and she wouldn't listen to anyone but herself. And yet, she also always came up with the most creative ideas and never lacked originality. Adela Burton also seemed to always have her nose stuck in a book, and lately those have been cook books.

With a small skip in her step, the young eleven year old entered the slightly humid kitchen to find her mother in a Christmas apron and a dangerous bun, as expected. The small girl smirked to herself, satisfied by her imagination. Her mother's caramel eyes turned to her daughter and a childish grin found itself on her aging face.

"Well, I believe it was time that you woke up," she teased as she reached to mess up the brown mop of her daughter's hair, "Sleeping Belle." Isabelle cringed at the nickname as soon as she heard it. Apparently it was her mother's idea to give her her name, just so she could grant her the pleasure of hearing that nickname for the rest of her merry life. "Morning mum," Isabelle tried to say enthusiastically, a small smile etched onto her face as her mother presented her with hot chocolate.

So they didn't forget her birthday after all.

"And here comes your Beast!" Her mother laughed, a bit too loudly at her own joke. For a couple coming from a pureblooded family tree, they sure did appreciate the muggle culture. Christian chuckled at Adela, sliding in to squeeze her waist before moving to his daughter.

That was when Isabelle's mother turned as well, a large pancake cake in her hands. Isabelle's smile widened as she laughed in joy, turning to look at her parents. She gripped her mug of hot chocolate to prevent herself from jumping up in excitement as her dear parents sang a very-out-of-tune happy birthday song. Her father came to sit next to her, ruffling Isabelle's hair along with it. "Happy birthday, Isla."

Isabelle couldn't help herself as her small arms enveloped themselves around her father's neck. He chuckled as he hugged her back, his beginnings of a beard tickling her neck. She heard the giggles of her mother as a flash went off right before her brown eyes. And then, one of the most joyous moments of her life was gone.

The only way Isabelle could explain what had transpired was with a sentence she heard a lot of times - it was as if her life flashed before her eyes. Which was actually quite funny, hearing it from a small girl like her. It was her parents' first reaction. They were sure she was feeling mischievous since it was her birthday and since Christmas would be coming along in a few days. Christian was the first to listen to her seriously. His skepticism turned to worry as he watched his daughter's brown eyes pierce into his green ones. She wasn't looking at her mother, she wasn't looking somewhere else, but right into his orbs, almost hypnotized.

"You saved mum, you saved her from the green light, dad. I saw you there."

Her mother's closed smile turned into a frown in milliseconds. Her parents exchanged looks.

"Where, honey? Where did you see him?"

Isabelle shook her head, suddenly very exhausted. The plate with the pancake cake did not seem so inviting anymore.

From that day on, Isabelle would only get more and more flashes, as she liked to call them. They started growing more erratic with the day, that day that she had awaited all her life. She was nearing twelve years old when her letter arrived. She was lounging on the dark blue couch in her living room, eating a Chocolate Frog when her the cat that started all of the magic in her life, the cat she grew attached to came to her, all raging and meowing.

Isabelle grew worried, usually accustomed to the cat's quite passive behavior. She had never seen Minus act so viciously and then it seemed to click in her mind. The puzzle pieces were brought together in seconds.

He hated birds. Despised them.

Petting the black cat on the head, she discarded the chocolate on the coffee table and practically ran to the front door. She didn't care what the neighbors would think, after all her parents were at work and she had been awaiting this moment for 8 years. As soon as she opened the door, her eyes landed on the mail box and the brown owl perched on it.

She hesitated, meeting the bird's yellow gaze with her own. She could hear Minus yowling in the house and for a moment she found herself clueless. Should she approach the bird? Or should the bird come to her?

Almost as if sensing her hesitation, the owl flew from the mail box, temporarily startling Isabelle. Realising what the owl wants, Isabelle offered her arm and owl easily flew onto her forearm, slightly scraping the skin underneath her Isabelle's green hoodie. The bird dropped the letter from its beak, directly into Isabelle's hand. It hooted before flying off, Isabelle's arm dropping to her side. She ignored the sting she felt on her skin and she could care less about her torn hoodie.

What mattered right now is that September was a month away, and she had gotten her letter.

That one month seemed to drag on and on, and on and on. As soon as September 1st arrived, Isabelle felt something beyond happiness. Her chest was heaving with every breath she took, her small lips in a constant either open or closed smile and her usual dark eyes that seemed to have cogs turning behind them, seemed to be bright and filled with a young glow. Her relatives oftentimes told her she was too mature for her age. Maybe it was the fact that she always had her eyes pasted to a page of a book or maybe it was that she always thought before speaking. Whatever it was, she was indeed a bit too wise for her age.

One thing that did represent her young mind was her curiousity. Perhaps it was this that she felt at that moment as she packed her trunk for Hogwarts. She still had around 6 and a half hours left until her train left, but she could not sleep. How is one able to sleep if they're leaving for Hogwarts in less that 7 hours? Sleep is for the weak anyways, and she did not want to appear weak. She was strong and tough and all of those other traits Gryffindors possessed.

Those 6 hours passed by quickly and at 11 she was in the Hogwarts train in her lonely compartment, waving a giddy hand out of the window to her parents. The blonde woman stood waving with slight tears in her eyes, the brown haired man next to her only grinning at his daughter as she took a big step in her life. Baby steps were no longer possible, now she would be facing life and growing up partly on her own. And it made him proud.

Pride was definitely not something Isabelle felt as she stood there among the eleven year old children. They were all like her, anticipating their name being called and awaiting their house excitedly. It seemed only Isabelle was frightened. The Great Hall was magnificent and Isabelle's eyes still couldn't believe a room like this existed. Four tables were placed inside it, four table representing four houses. A large table was in front of her, right behind the dreaded Sorting Hat that was placed upon a sturdy stool. Her eyes lingered on the hourglasses next to the long teacher's table. The brown of her orbs particularly lingered on the depth of the emeralds.

"Sirius Black!" Isabelle was stirred into reality by the stern voice of professor McGonagall, the head of the Gryffindor house. Her grey eyes narrowed as she watched - along with most of the Great Hall - as a rather confident young boy protruded out of the crowd. His ashy black hair seemed to glisten underneath the levitating candles and his grey eyes looked around with an arrogant smirk as he noticed he was in the centre of attention. He walked rather proudly to the stool and as he sat down his eyes caught the brown of Isabelle's eyes.

He winked and Isabelle furrowed her brows at that, slightly annoyed at the overwhelming confidence of this boy. She fiddled with her robe as she watched the Sorting Hat speak. "Ah, Sirius Black, a new member of the Slytherin family, perhaps? I see the resourcefulness there, lingering in your head. Your courage and mischief seem to be prevailing though. I know just what to do with you," Sirius' confidence seemed to lessen as he expected the answer. Isabelle exhaled. At least she wasn't the only one afraid.

"Gryffindor!" The red and gold table burst into applause while the teachers seemed to be stunned for a small moment. Isabelle furrowed her brows at that. What was wrong with him getting into Slytherin? Sirius tensely moved to the table, his proud stride gone as he sat down, his face a pale color.

"Isabelle Burton!" Her observations were stopped as she heard her name. Her brown eyes widening only slightly, she took a long inhale before stepping forward through the crowd of children. A rather tall ginger girl smiled at her reassuringly, almost sensing Isabelle's worry. She forced a small smile as a thanks, the corners of her mouth raising upwards.

Isabelle sat down and soon felt the weight of the Sorting Hat on her head. Biting her lip, she listened. "A Burton, hm? Yes, yes I sorted all of your ancestors and they all seemed to go towards the courageous path. But you're not the case, am I right?" Isabelle's breath hitched. She was meant to be in Gryffindor, her family expected on her being in Gryffindor. "Gryffindor doesn't seem to be for you, there is great power in you and the desire to control it is even higher. There's intellect and wit as well, you would do well in Ravenclaw too. Ah, I see, yes, I believe this is the right choice," Isabelle closed her eyes and felt her heart hammering against her ribcage.

She felt trapped and she could not wait for this to end. "Slytherin!" The green table erupted in claps and she found herself in a daze as she walked towards it, her brown eyes focused on the beautiful color. The color she felt drawn to since she was 4 years old. Her hands were shaking, but she clenched as she approached the tables, masking her shock with a smile as she greeted her new family. The rest of the Sorting went by in a blur, as did the rest of the 6 years of her life.


End file.
